On the weirdness of where we’ve been & why we’re hungry for more grace

It’s late at night for me to think about writing, let alone do it, but when Lala tells me flat out that she doesn’t plan to sleep in tomorrow morning, and I start feeling itchy with all I haven’t written, the thoughts in my head mingling with the rattling dishwasher noises in the kitchen, I know it is time to take a seat.

I haven’t known how to write about this week and a half we’ve been living. Details of a precious dog that turned startlingly aggressive and the decision to remove him from our home, and then the bawling conversations and then good-byes and then no place for him for a week and a half, so that Michael is living alone at our house with the dog we need to give away, while I’m living in my mother-in-law’s home with the girls.

Though there are parts that I may never be able to explain, it’s been one of the hardest spells for this little family of ours. The days stretch long, surreal and gray. We sought an answer to our many years’ longing for a dog, and we got one (again), wrapped in all kinds of miracle moments, and it looked like a sweet 11-month-old boxer-hound who felt like home, and now it looks like evening visits with papa and living out of laundry baskets and suitcases.

People have lived and are living through far worse (and we have, too), and so it’s weird to talk about, or write about, like this. But it’s our bizarre reality right now, and it is hard. I joked to friends the other night that there’s no support group for a family-living-across-town-from-each-other-while-they-wait-for-the-shelter-to-take-their-dog-in-and-they-try-to-make-life-move-along-as-normally-as-possible-for-their-kids-in-the-last-two-weeks-of-the-school-year, so here we are, trying to figure it out the best we can.

Shame wants me to stay quiet and lonely, but I know better than that anymore.

Long story, short: we opened our hearts all big and messy, and we got hurt. We are feeling the hurt.

I keep reminding myself to do the next thing we know. Sometimes it’s driving four and a half hours to the southern part of the state to be with my sister and her family to celebrate cousin birthdays circus-style, or it’s heading across town again to pick up kids or drop them off. Sometimes it’s a call to Michael at our house so we can sit in the sadness and weirdness together across the phone line, or sending out a request for prayers, or holding one of my girls close, or singing “Amazing Grace” even if I’m just sort of going through the motions.

We see our blessings clear as day: the support of dear people, a loving community, food to fill bellies, Oregon strawberries, fresh and clean water, a temporary and regular home, glorious June sunshine, a family life to which we long to return.

And we feel sorrow about dreams not panning out as we’d hoped, and I start crying when my little one burns her finger, and another slices her heel on a rock, and I can’t figure out the danged remotes, and I don’t know how to parent her kind of pain, and I miss my husband and how we do this together.

It’s all a jumble really, sort of like the way I load this foreign dishwasher.

We pray that God would be our Home — regardless of where we lay our heads, that the Great Weaver would make something good from all these loose threads, that we would choose greater gratitude and joy as our anchor. Really, we want to know grace in such ways that it would bleed for others who live trapped sorts of realities every day.

Beyond that, sometimes life doesn’t make sense, and so regrets and whys are a waste, and I don’t know how to wrap that up for me or them or you, and I pretty much know that’s not the point.

About a month ago, the words “Trust in God for God…and not for outcomes” dropped in my lap. And then they followed me all over the place. Before I had a clue why, they wouldn’t let me be.

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23 Comments

I’m so sorry,Ashley. This so very hard!!! And you’re right, people often don’t understand. (One of) my biggest fears is my sweet, older protective pup will one day startle at the babe and lash out. {Hugs} for you and your family!

Anytime I experience something upsetting or painful, I pray to God to see the positive in the situation and show me what I need to learn from it. Sometimes the situation changes a desire which in turns helps redirect a decision I would make. For example, as my husband and I were looking to buy a home, a person in the community wrote something malicious to me. I was upset and prayed. In turn, I wanted to look for a home in a gated community and now we live in a beautiful and loving subdivision that I wouldn’t have thought to buy in. God knew exactly where He wanted us to live and allowed a situation to take place to create that desire. God is awesome!

Just listened to the sermon on Job. The reminder that God invites us to trust him. He graces us with the mystery to trust him. He calls us to know him and that knowing him does not equal the resolution of tension. Yet Jesus says “come to me weak and heavy ladden and I will give you rest.” A good word for me this morning. Love you.

You know my dear dear girl that my heart does break, in many little and bigger ways, for you, Mike and the girls in this. I have to believe something very lovely will be born of this sorrow. I love you so.

I’m sorry that you’re family has some life issues. Glad you are still connected but in another house, safe. Praying things will get easier soon. Life gives us hard moments when all we want to do it cry. But then there’s the peaceful moments when God’s presence is felt and He gives comfort. We had that happen this week at our house with a job our daughter wanted that’s in her career field. It didn’t happen. We sigh, cry, pray, feel better and keep going on. There will be a better day! Praying for you all! Hugs!

Becky, thanks so much for your loving words, prayers and encouragement here. “Sigh, cry, pray, feel better and keep going on” — that seems a pretty good method for making your way through hard times. I hope your daughter is finding spaces of joy in the midst of what often doesn’t make sense. Much love to you and your family.

Puppy love is powerful. How do you explain it when it all goes wrong. I feel your disappointment Ashley and I’m sorry for it. Holding the hearts of your children must be so hard. Praying for you friend.

A priest told me, when I was afraid I lacked enough grace, ‘you either have ‘grace’ or you don’t. ‘I’m not being arbitrary, but he considered my question and that was his answer. I read your writings. See you on Saturday.

Grandma, I do understand his point. Grace just is. Seems the challenge is in receiving the what-is in greater and greater measure, to allow it to fill our cracks of need. It was lovely to see you Saturday. What a joyous day. I love you.

Dear friend. I hear your pain and your gratitude, the messiness of it not fitting within any lines. I see how you all opened your hearts wide and you are hurting. I continue to carry you and your sweet family in my heart as you walk this through. Love, peace, comfort – and yes, grace heaped upon grace – to you all. xoxoxo

{{{HUGS}}} my friend! So sorry you are going through this! Trusting that our God who loves and lives to redeem all things will show Himself strong on your behalf and give you grace and comfort… so glad you wrote and that you know now for sure… you are not alone, sister!

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